‘Chatha Pacha’ review: Adhvaith Nayar’s debut slams hard, but stays safe

There is a moment in ‘Chatha Pacha: The Ring of Rowdies’ when the lights dim, the crowd erupts, and bodies are flung onto the mat with unapologetic drama. In those moments, the film is not chasing realism or restraint. It wants you to feel the chaos, the noise, and the adrenaline rush of a wrestling match. That impulse sits at the heart of Adhvaith Nayar’s debut. This is a film far more invested in atmosphere, memory, and performance than in tight plotting.

Set against Kochi’s fringe wrestling scene, ‘Chatha Pacha’ borrows heavily from the exaggerated, theatrical world of WWE rather than the grammar of conventional sports cinema. The story follows three friends, Savio (Arjun Ashokan), Vetri (Roshan Mathew), and Little (Ishan Shoukath), who grow up idolising a local wrestler named Walter. Years later, that childhood fascination refuses to fade. What begins as admiration slowly turns into a way of life, as the trio attempt to keep alive a costume-driven form of wrestling that feels increasingly out of step with the present. For them, the ring is not just a stage. It is history, identity, and escape rolled into one.

Narratively, the film sticks to a familiar path. There is a clear protagonist-antagonist dynamic, and nothing about this arc feels particularly groundbreaking. In fact, this is where the film feels a bit thin. The emotional bond between the central characters, and the tensions surrounding them, could have been explored with more depth. You understand who these people are, but you do not always feel them as strongly as the film seems to want you to. A little more attention to their relationships might have made the conflicts hit harder.

There are very few surprises in how the story unfolds, and most emotional beats are easy to anticipate. To the film’s credit, it does not try too hard to disguise this. ‘Chatha Pacha’ seems aware of its narrative limitations and instead channels its energy into creating a visceral viewing experience. The emphasis is clearly on how the film feels rather than how cleverly it is written.

Adhvaith Nayar shows striking confidence for a first-time director, especially in his embrace of excess. The film is loud, colourful, and proudly stylised. Anend C Chandran’s cinematography plays a major role in shaping this world. Enclosed spaces are transformed into charged arenas through heavy shadows, dramatic lighting, and bold red and yellow hues. At times, the film feels less like a traditional movie and more like being inside a wrestling venue, waiting for the next body to crash onto the canvas.

The wrestling sequences are undeniably the film’s backbone. Kalai Kingston’s choreography gives each slam and throw a sense of weight and rhythm. These moments are staged not merely as physical confrontations but as pure spectacle. Those who grew up glued to WWE broadcasts in the 1990s might feel the nostalgia hit hard. The film understands that wrestling, for this audience, is about emotion, memory, and larger-than-life drama as much as it is about sport. This awareness is where ‘Chatha Pacha’ truly comes alive.

The performances help sustain the film’s momentum. Arjun Ashokan and Roshan Mathew throw themselves fully into their roles, bringing a mix of raw intensity and performative machismo. Even when the writing does not dig deep into their inner lives, their commitment keeps the characters watchable. Vishak Nair delivers a solid supporting performance, and the presence of several newcomers adds a rough, lived-in authenticity to the wrestling ecosystem the film creates. Shankar–Ehsaan–Loy’s music adds punch, without overwhelming the film.

Where the film falters is, once again, in character depth. The trio is clearly defined through attitude and action, but their emotional journeys feel undercooked. The film seems more interested in preserving the myth of certain figures than unpacking them. This becomes especially evident in the build-up to a much-publicised cameo. The anticipation is stretched out and repeatedly signalled, making the moment feel calculated. When it finally arrives, it lands with force but little surprise, like a punch you saw coming long before it connected.

The pacing reflects this imbalance. The first half moves cautiously, spending time setting up atmosphere and relationships. While this groundwork is necessary, it occasionally feels stretched. Once the second half begins, the film finds its stride, leaning confidently into spectacle and momentum.

‘Chatha Pacha: The Ring of Rowdies’ may not break new narrative ground, but it works as an entertainer driven by energy, nostalgia, and visual bravado. It knows exactly what it wants to be and largely delivers on that promise. For audiences willing to surrender to its noise and nostalgia, the film offers a sweaty, chaotic, and unapologetically theatrical experience.